


Blood Is Thicker Than Water

by Ceminar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bloodplay, Drone Season 2015, M/M, Obedience, Painplay, Power Play, Self-Pailing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceminar/pseuds/Ceminar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee was upset, but that doesn't surprise you. Your most wicked of brothers was always in a foul mood when he came calling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Is Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnonEi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEi/gifts).



You spat blood as well as you could from between your stitched up lips, looking at your ectobrother with flashing purple eyes. Gamzee was upset, but that doesn't surprise you. Your most wicked of brothers was always in a foul mood when he came calling.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

You've no idea what set him off this time, and you don't care much either. Not as he holds your face in those claws that you ache to feel in your flesh, tearing you apart as he laughs, a sound you're no longer able to clearly make.

But, as he says so very often, that's what makes you so motherfuckin' despicable. Your vow of silence making you nearly useless to the Church. Nearly, of not for the Voodoo that you do, and how your little kittybitch is as well trained and loyal to the Church as you yourself.

"Come on, motherfucker. Ain't you got some knowledge to lay on me?"

It takes everything to not close your eyes and melt at how those words were spat with such venom, the hand holding your face moving, instead, to your neck. It's joined by the other shortly, claws digging into flesh that will never have the chance to darken with age, dragging around to your throat. You swallow hard, imagining how those beautiful shredders must look, bathing in your blood as he holds you down, straddling your boney waist.

You recall how you wound up in this position. The feral roar, the angry, red eyes as jaw and club connected. Clearly, at least for a second, you blacked out from the pain and surprise, and you wish you knew what knowledge he was talking about. You almost wish to taunt him, have him hurt you more for talking back, in a manner of speaking, just to know the context of things, but the chance he might change his mind isn't worth what small risk it would be.

So you shrug. Close your eyes to hide the glow from them as you relish the feeling of blood soaking into your suit, how you swear you can just feel his pulse from how tight he's gripping you.

"Don't be giving me that shit." He leans closer now lips brushing against your ear and your breathing nearly stops. "I want my... brother... to be telling me why they be thinkin it's all sorts of right to be fucking with another's best motherfuckin' friend."

Oh... Shit. When your eyes open, they're focused on literally everything but him. You hadn't forgotten those two were a thing. And you had your own moirail to take care of. But you hadn't thought it would be all that bad to be nice to the brother. A smile here, a pet there. Won't nothing no kinds of serious. Just keeping him calm while they worked on their things.

"Answer me, Chucklefuck. And don't be tryin that fancy hand shit, either."

Swallowing, you look to him, eyes flashing as you tell him it didn't mean anything. Just being nice to the brother of a brother. That was all. Don't want him being suspicious or nothing. As Gamzee mulled this over, you counted his breaths, each one as it went over your droopy ears he pulled back, painted face smiling at you.

"That better all up and be motherfuckin' it, Skelebro." Gamzee was... possibly pleased, finally releasing your neck to look over the blood on his hands. They were beautiful in your opinion, and he gazed at them a long moment before dragging his tongue across his bloodstained finger. "Ain't like I got a reason not to be trusting you. Nah, I trust you just fine. You's a good motherfucker, ain't ya?"

How his tone changed sent shivers down your spine as you nod, eyes trained on first your blood, still on his hands and lips, to his own eyes and how he literally looks down at you.

"That's what I done thought. Now let a brother see just how good they be. Skelebro likes to bleed, don't you? "

He allows you a moment to nod in response, wishing to lick at your lips at the promise of your desires being fulfilled. To your surprise, he does so for you, leaning to meet your bound lips, long, thick tongue sliding across them. The kiss is more gentle than you've come to expect from him, like one you would expect from a partner from a flush or pale quadrant.

"You wanna be torn to tiny motherfuckin' pieces, don't you?"

The way Gamzee's breath ghosts over your lips sends your blood pumping to your loins, nook starting to drip as your bulge slowly works it's way from its sheath. But the blood from your neck wounds also begins to pool under your head, matting your hair into a sticky mess.

"That's why a brother be nothing but some motherfuckin' smiles when they lay they peepers on me. Know don't no one break you apart like this one right here." Each word is a brush of lips against lips, and you squirm. A hand finds your wrists, pinning them above your head as nails dig into you, just enough for a few beads of purple but, to your disappointment, nothing more. Another set of claws drag down your stomach, tearing the cloth, leaving angry looking marks, but only much of the same. "Break all your sacred shit that don't mean a fuck to no one but your own motherfuckin' self!"

If you had your voice, you would have cried out as sharp teeth sunk into your lips. So many ways. So many other ways he could have done this but your writhe as your mouth fills with coppery tasting fluid, as threads twang and are pulled through, leaving you more open than you had been in ages.

What is he going to do next?

The thought crosses your mind as you try not to drown on your blood, but as soon as your lips are free, he moves downward, biting into you, ripping away at your top and spitting the fabric as you try to voice your inquiry. But he either ignores you or your Voodoo has gone haywire because he doesn't answer. He doesn't stop until you're covered in welts and tattered fabric, smiling down at your bulge as he drags a claw along it.

"Kinky ass motherfucker." Gamzee laughs as your bulge tries to coil around his wrist, as you groan from the contact, the sharpness against such sensitive flesh. "Getting all sorts of fucking excited having ya blood spilled. The most disgraceful of shit for anyone that got the nerve to be calling they self my brother."

His words only fuel your need, as you roll your hips towards him, nodding. Disgraceful. Yes, yes you are. Blood is only meant to be enjoyed if it is spilling from the body of heretics. To spill your own for anything less than a sacrifice is blasphemous and deserving of punishment.

"Beg for it."

Your mouth opens. The mutilated stub of a tongue waves in futility as you try to find your voice. But it is long forgotten, and you're too lost in your need to use your bloodgiven powers. You try to sign the words instead, but the hand on your wrist makes it difficult.

"I said to motherfuckin' beg!"

His frustration is beautiful, slamming your bound wrists against the ground as a reminder that those hand symbols were for lesser trolls. Your eyes flicker, your Voodoo returning enough to do as asked.

"Punish this motherfucker for they most heinous of acts as only you can. Punish me and let all these fucking errors be known. Please."

The smile that nearly splits his face is almost feral. You're released, but you know better than to move from where he left you.

"Since you wanna be spillin yo' blood like you some kinda non-motherfuckin-believer, a brother gone treat ya like one. Just don't die on a brother like one a them. Got it?"

His laugh was dry, but his hands were not as they tore into you. He tells you not to scream, but with what voice you can muster, you do. The smell of your blood is strong as it pools under your body. Laughter rings through the dark spot you two have claimed as Gamzee watches you squirm, as you writhe in pained pleasure. You vaguely taste blood. Taste him. You feel full, but the way he snarls over you tells you it's not him filling you.

This is a punishment, he reminds you, licking your blood off his hand again as it drips down his chin. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you up to see your bulge working your nook and can only manage a distant 'Oh.' in the furthest reaches of your pan. You aren't supposed to be enjoying this as much as you are. But he let's you, only because you're too disgusting for him to stick his bulge in. Disappointing, but deserved. You can live with that.

You aren't quite sure how long this goes on, but you come to, not realizing you passed out. He's gone. Always gone. But your thighs are sticky and it's not blood that has them that way. Nor is it the only thing that coats your chest as you struggle to sit up. He might not have fucked you, but you know how much he enjoys tearing into you.

You feel your lips, still unstitched and sore, but healing. Your back and sides are criss-cross with scabs and there's more covering your front and hips. Teeth marks litter your collar and neck and you couldn't be more pleased.

And the walls. They're closer than you imagined, but you can judge the distance better now they're littered with notes and pictures in your favorite shade. Nothing too different than usual. Plans, hate messages to those that get in their way. You read them over as you pull out your needle and thread, begin to repair when he broke, but one catches your eye and you smile.

'Next time, try not to be so motherfuckin' obvious. DON'T NOBODY LIKE A GREEDY MOTHERFUCKIN' MOTHERFUCKER. You wanna get fucked up so badly then you best be figuring out a better way to go about that shit. CAUSE NEXT TIME I AIN'T GONNA BE SO MOTHERFUCKIN' MERCIFUL.'

How sweet. It's almost like he knew you had a hand in what set him off. You'll just have to be more careful then. You don't want your favorite motherfuckin' brother to find a reason to stop this.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this and couldn't resist. I hope you like! And I hope it fits the fill. Might focus a bit more on the violence than the sex, but ehhhhhhh...


End file.
